


You're an Asshole But...

by owlaholic68



Category: Urban Shadows (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: (Sessions), Between Episodes, Blood and Injury, Booty Calls, Breathplay, CHAPTER TWO TAGS:, Canon Backstory, Casual Sex, Complicated Relationships, Consensual Sex, Denial of Feelings, Edgeplay, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Rough Sex, Self-Esteem Issues, Swearing, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28601481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: Theodore vents his frustrations and Phillip is the unlucky target this time.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

Theodore’s fucking texting Phillip again.

 _Fuck off,_ Phillip texts back and resolves to not look at his phone for the rest of the night.

But there is an immediate response that tempts him to fetching his phone from his coffee table again: _Come over._

What part of _fuck off_ does his boss not understand? Phillip grits his teeth. _No,_ he replies. _I’m busy._

 _Now._ Theodore’s text includes the period.

 _It’s two in the morning. I’m not leaving my fucking apartment because you’re pathetic and lonely._ Phillip hisses at the shadows in his quiet apartment, needing to vent some frustration at Theodore booty-calling him with no regard for Phillip’s personal time.

Theodore, who never knows when to give up or take no for an answer, calls him. Like, a proper call. Who even does that anymore?

Despite his better judgement, Phillip picks up. If he doesn’t, Theodore will keep calling. “What the fuck do you want now?”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.” His boss’ voice is husky. He’s breathing heavily.

The worst part is that Phillip is _into_ that tone of voice. Something about Theodore sounding like that and apparently wanting to be with Phillip so impatiently that he was willing to drive over himself, well…

That’ll do something to a man. Phillip clears his throat. “I _hate_ you,” he growls. “Call Orion next time.”

Theodore hangs up. Phillip spends the next handful of minutes cursing his brutish manners, or complete lack thereof.

It’s less than five minutes when Theodore arrives. He must have been speeding. Phillip gets the notification that Theodore is requesting access to the building and reluctantly lets him in. He could just refuse and let Theodore be angry about it, but he’s bored and this will spice up his night.

And hopefully not kill him.

When Phillip opens his apartment door, Theodore grabs him by the front of his shirt and shoves him to the ground. He slams Phillip’s front door closed: that’ll annoy the neighbors.

“Were you raised in a fucking barn?” Phillip scrambles to his feet. “You’ll break my goddamn door doing that.”

Theodore, shedding his coat and suit jacket, growls. If Phillip didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn that Theo was half-werewolf or something. His boss is wearing a tie with an adorable pattern of bunnies on it: he tears it off and throws it to the side before similarly discarding his shirt.

Oh shit, Phillip is still totally dressed. He scrambles to remove his pants and underwear but doesn’t get his shirt off before Theodore is on him again, slamming him against the closed front door.

“Ow, fuck!” Thankfully, Phillip had the vampiric reaction time to move his head to the side to avoid a bloody nose, but his cheek took the brunt of the damage instead. His good side, though his bad eye aches from the echo of the impact. Some of that pain fades when Theodore grinds against him from behind. But Theodore is still holding onto the back of his head, keeping his face pressed to the rough wood of the door.

Phillip snarls and swears and forgets himself for a few minutes: he squirms and struggles even though he knows that such movement annoys Theodore. And when his boss is annoyed, he tends to forget his own supernatural strength and that’s when accidents happen.

But then Theodore uses his God-gifted body and Phillip doesn’t mind quite so much anymore. He also can’t move much when he’s got a raw dick that feels like a PVC pipe up his ass.

“You’re really planning on – on fucking breaking my front door, aren’t – aren’t you?” The hinges creak with every shallow thrust. Phillip’s breathing sounds equally squeaky.

Theodore’s hand holding his face to the door loosens. Instead, he wraps that large hand around Phillips’ mouth. Then he slams all the way into him so savagely that everything goes white and Phillip is sure that his neighbors must hear his scream, even muffled as it is. Theo, just to cruelly prove that he really was holding back, does it twice more in quick succession before releasing him and pulling out.

Weak-kneed at the display of ferocity, Phillip sinks to the floor gasping for breath. “L-Lube,” he shakily demands. “Now, Theo, or I’m not letting you in me ever again.” He grabs the doorknob above him to pull himself to a kneeling position. “I’m serious – _mmph!”_

Theo’s heavenly penis doesn’t seem quite so magical when it’s unceremoniously put in Phillip’s mouth. He coughs on it and weakly pushes Theo’s hips away from his jaw. “Fucking warn me first,” he snaps. “Did you never learn to use your words?”

A low growl is the only response. Theodore seizes Phillip’s wrist _hard_ and yanks his hand so it’s laying flat against Theodore’s knee. He lets go of that hand but Phillip, unfortunately, knows what that means. He keeps his hand in place and Theo keeps doing what he’s doing. He removes it and Theodore stops.

Sure enough, that’s his only way of safewording since Theodore’s intent seems to be testing the structural integrity of his door, this time by face-fucking Phillip into it so hard that he sees stars and finally lets his throat muscles go lax.

He can normally control his gag reflex, but he chokes and helplessly spasms when Theodore orgasms for not the last time that night without pulling out. Phillip squeezes Theodore’s knee so hard he hopes he leaves bruises.

When his poor throat is finally dick-free, Phillip curls up and sputters, cursing Theo to Hell and back. His voice is humiliatingly rough and wet. His door is miraculously intact.

Theo drags Phillip by his hair to the middle of the room and deposits him half-slumped over the coffee table. Phillip groans: he’s not sure how many more hard surfaces he can tolerate being fucked against. But he gets a few moments of reprieve when Theo rummages in Phillip’s adjoining bedroom for his supplies.

When he returns, Phillip has gathered himself enough to have moved himself to his couch.

There is a weird long silence when Theo exits Phillips’ bedroom. Phillip finally looks up to see Theo standing at the coffee table and visibly seething. His boss’ lip curls in anger.

“What?” Phillip briefly bares his fangs in an expression of don’t-give-a-fuck. “Couch is more comfortable. Go fuck yourself if you don’t like it.”

Theodore’s eyes darken at the insolent tone. He crooks a single finger in a come-hither motion.

“No, fuck off,” Phillip rasps. “I’m staying here.”

The lip curl turns into full-on bared teeth. Theo snaps his fingers and points at his feet like Phillip is a disobedient dog.

Phillip’s cheeks heat at the implied insult. “No,” he snaps. “Make me.”

He regrets it as soon as he says it because Theodore absolutely _will_ make him, invitation or no.

Theodore takes a step towards him and Phillip swallows hard. He tries not to flinch when Theodore takes another, then another with dark intent in his walk and in his eyes.

“Th-Theo, p-please-” Phillip yelps when Theodore grabs one of legs and yanks him off the couch. He tries to frantically crawl away but is swiftly recaptured, this time with a hand around his thigh violently wrenching him back. “I – I’m sorry, Theodore-” He loudly groans: Theo is dragging him backwards and the texture of the carpet never felt so good on his bare skin before. That severe pleasure is mixing with the pain in his leg: Theo is holding onto him too tightly and pulling him too hard.

When Theodore has him right where he wants him, he uses his strength to flip Phillip so he’s on his back. He spreads Phillip’s legs and a smug depraved smirk spreads across his face.

There is a sliver of mercy, at least, that he takes the time to use the damn lube that he had to spend a whole minute searching for. Phillip squirms to find a more comfortable position. He also uses this opportunity to touch himself since Theo doesn’t seem particularly inclined to such a task this time.

Getting railed by his boss isn’t as painful this round, but it is less gradual: there’s no period where it’s a few inches at a time. It’s all in at once, Phillip’s aching legs hooked up around Theo’s shoulders and his own shoulder blades driven into the thin rough carpet with each thrust.

He’s making loud wanton noises. Another mistake: Theo prefers quiet. His boss is getting more and more agitated at the noise.

The first thing he does is abruptly pull out and stalk across the room to Phillip’s kitchen, where he dumps out half the junk drawer in his lustful frustration. He comes back with a ragged dishtowel and an apron. The apron is twisted into a rope-like shape and then fastened around Phillip’s wrists and the leg of the coffee table, securing his arms over his head.

The dishtowel gets wadded into a ball and put into one of his bound hands. Phillip’s stomach sinks with fury at the realization that Theo is about to shut him up again.

“Please-” His breath leaves him in a keening gasp when Theo shoves himself all the way in again. “Theo – Theodore – Mr. Stokes, I – I’ll shut up I fucking promise.” He whines because Theo has seen fit to touch him for a few brief unsatisfying strokes, “I promise, you don’t – you don’t have to do this-”

His breath _really_ leaves him this time. Theo’s huge hand fits easily around his throat from ear to ear. He angles them so that Phillip is almost bent over on himself, his ass in the air getting plowed and his shoulder sockets straining at their bound position.

“Theo-” Phillip’s wheeze is cut off: Theo presses down on his neck and cuts off his air supply. His fingers flex and tingle around the balled-up dishcloth.

Panicked arousal stirs in his stomach. Phillip, having previously gone limp as to avoid any unnecessary injury, starts twisting and writhing to ease the pressure. Theodore snarls at the resistance and tightens his grip.

The lack of oxygen to his brain, despite the way that Phillip’s body is reacting to the danger, is making everything feel _wonderful._ He manages a silent breathless moan of pleasure and goes boneless again, letting Theodore dominate him as he pleases because that pleases Phillip too right now.

So it shocks him when Theo abruptly stops and releases his grip.

“Wh-What?” Phillip wheezes. He blinks to clear his vision and sees that Theo is looking up, over Phillip’s head and –

His hands. He’d let go of the dishrag.

“Fuck.” Phillip wiggles his wrists and grabs it again. “I – I’m fine, Theo.”

His boss gives him a calculating look before determining that it was, in fact, an accident and that he was allowed to continue. But the contemplation swiftly ends: Theo’s hand goes back around his neck and he starts railing Phillip to the point of screaming again.

This time, Theodore lets up his strangling for brief seconds so Phillip remains aware of what’s happening. Everything starts to go slightly dark, numb but for his hands and between his legs and the burning points of contact on his throat where there will surely be distinctive finger-shaped bruises tomorrow. Phillip’s mouth remains obscenely open in attempted gasps and screams and other forbidden noises.

Phillip’s boss leans in. “This will get you to shut up for a week,” he whispers. The first time Phillip has _ever_ heard him say a word in the dozen-or-more times they’ve slept together. His voice is the broken tone of a man near another finish, and hopefully for the last time this night. “If it doesn’t stick then I’ll have to take you over my desk and teach you this again.”

Such a threat, a mere fantasy considering Theodore’s strict policy against workplace relations but appealing all the same, pushes Phillip over his edge. Tears come to his eye and he pulls on his bindings, making the joints of his coffee table groan nearly as loud as Theodore when he continues mercilessly fucking Phillip for almost a minute longer before finishing, again inside Phillip with little regard for hygiene or respect or asking first.

A humiliated protest tries to come out of Phillip’s mouth and fails halfway through. A squeak doesn’t get any further. The numbness of his abused throat is starting to fade into a dull burning. Even with his accelerated vampiric healing, he’ll be croaky for days. The worst part is that nobody at the office will ask too many questions: they’ll all have a good guess as to what happened considering the other injuries Phillip’s body will show.

Theodore, having let go of him and extricated himself from Phillip, leans again and presses a shockingly soft kiss upon Phillip’s cheekbone on his bad side. His hands untie Phillip’s wrists. The points where the hot skin of his fingertips brush Phillip’s inner wrists light up with sensation. Phillip shudders and closes his good eye.

“Don’t be late to work tomorrow,” Theodore grumbles.

Phillip mutely nods. He might have to search for some unexpired cough drops in his cabinets if he’s going to make it through the entire workday. He tries to sit up but fails, falling back on the carpet with a wince.

In a rare moment of being a gentleman, Theodore easily picks Phillip up and dumps him on the couch. Maybe Phillip should take some cards from Orion’s playbook and pout a lot after sex so that Theodore is nicer. If he was in any shape to verbally complain, he could do that too to gain favor.

In an equally unusual lapse of emotion, Phillip grabs his hand when he turns away. Theodore freezes with his back turned, but he allows the sentimental contact for a few seconds before jerking his hand away.

He watches Theodore dress himself. _Hate to see you go but love to watch you leave,_ Phillip quotes to himself. He can (and will) complain about how rough Theo is, how uncaring or unheeding of physical limits he can be, but _goddamn_ is he pretty satisfying to sleep with.

Satisfying is the only word that truly describes their semi-frequent encounters. Everything aches, not unpleasantly this time, and he feels full and tired. Phillip lets his eyelid droop as he drinks in the sight of Theodore’s back muscles flexing when he puts on his jacket and reaches for the door handle.

But there will always be an element of fuckery in Theo: he opens the door, steps through it, gives a smug smirk over his shoulder, and viciously slams the door shut behind himself.

Phillip’s face turns red from fury. He wishes he could yell or scream or even better, get up and chase after Theodore to give him a piece of his mind. But all he can do is text Theodore a middle finger emoji and an _I hate you._

He means that _hate._ But he also doesn’t. Phillip silently growls at the shitty confusion of it all. He lays back against the couch cushions and spends a terrible restless night.


	2. Morning After

Phillip’s apartment is too quiet in the morning. Theodore never stays. Phillip sometimes wishes he would: he’s always wished that Theodore would stay but knows that it is a mere fantasy.

He rolls off the couch onto the floor when his phone alarm blares. He tries to groan but nothing comes out. Every inch of his pathetic body aches like he just got hit by a truck.

A burning hot shower takes the edge off. Phillip drinks some blood from his fridge while he dries his hair. He’ll need to directly feed soon, but this will help. While he blow-dries his thick mess of hair, he contemplates shaving. It’s way too much work, but Theo hates scruffy facial hair.

 _Let him hate it,_ Phillip stubbornly decides. It didn’t make Theo love him back when Phillip was fresh-faced, so why should it matter now?

The way he does his hair is different, too, from way back when Phillip still had hopes for romance with his boss. He used to do his hair flippy and floppy and fluffy and cute. But after he lost his eye, he started letting it grow and drying it so that one side sunk over his eyepatch. The sides grew longer and didn’t frame his face as nicely.

Phillip finishes with his hair long before it’s done. His arms ache and he can’t be bothered to style it nicely. He’s going to look like shit anyways.

He dresses in one of the same boring suits he’s been wearing for years. He buttons his dress shirt to the top button and slides on a tie. There’s no point in leaving it unbuttoned to show off his neck like he’s a snack: he doesn’t do that for Theodore anymore.

Plus, what is the _fucking_ point when Theo only has eyes for Orion? Why is Phillip still trying to vie for attention when it’s obvious that Theo has decided upon destroying a new young pretty face? That he doesn’t have time for poor little bitter Phillip anymore, that he never really had time and he never really cared and there is _no point_ to this anymore.

Phillip stops that train of thought. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath like a therapist once told him to do. He finishes putting on his tie.

The finger-shaped bruises on his neck are visible above his collar. Phillip shudders at the sight: too much like bite marks. He digs through a box in his closet and finds his old scarves. A plain black light scarf fits easily around his neck.

On his way to work, Phillip stops by a drugstore and buys four packages of cough drops and a bottle of pain medication.

He limps into the office. Those who know him scatter: they know better than to bother him today.

Alice doesn’t know better. She’s _new._

“Oh my goodness, Phillip, are you _okay?”_ She squeaks and flutters her hands in alarm. “Oh, oh dear-”

 _Shut up,_ he opens his mouth to snap, but his cough drops aren’t working yet and all he manages is a wheeze. He flips her off instead.

She doesn’t get the hint. “Are – are you sure that I can’t get you anything-”

Phillip bares his fangs in a hiss. _Fuck off,_ he wants to scream. He wants to take out his jealous rage, his frustration, his despair at seeing another too-young kid fall into Theo’s trap of desperately longing to please him but always coming up short. Orion was bad enough, Gary was even worse: now this girl is even younger and more naïve.

Alice, still overly concerned with Phillip’s well-being, reaches out to touch his arm.

Thankfully for both of them, Dr. Hakim comes to the rescue. “Alice, you’d better hurry with Mr. Stokes’ coffee,” Dr. Hakim suggests. “Leave poor Phillip alone. He just came in.”

“Of – of course, Doctor.” Alice quickly retracts her hand. She awkwardly smiles and hurries off to get Theodore’s necessary coffee.

Phillip gives a brief nod of appreciation to Dr. Hakim. She’s not bad and not stupid and most importantly, not annoying – with the exception of when she frequently asks to take a look at his bad eye. That’s out of the question: she’s too bright. She’d immediately realize what had happened and Phillip isn’t ready for those questions.

“You look like shit,” Dr. Hakim comments. “Come down to see me. I can get something strong to get you through this week.”

He nods again and watches her walk away. The rest of his morning is spent doing his normal work. A sliver of his voice returns just before noon. The office is quiet today: no big meetings, no important deadlines coming up. Orion is still investigating the murder of Gary.

Orion. Should Phillip warn him about Theodore’s mood?

No, no need. Theodore should be fully satisfied from their encounter last night to last him for a week. Orion probably won’t have to deal with that.

 _But maybe he should,_ Phillip selfishly thinks. Maybe Orion deserves to be on the receiving end of one of Theodore’s needy attitudes. Would teach him a lesson, hopefully, about how mercurial and temperamental his boss could be. Maybe it would save Orion from the same fate that befell Phillip. It was all too easy to slide down that slope of wishing and hoping and believing until you get so low that it is too late to climb back up to independence or happiness.

Orion probably thinks that he and Phillip are completely different, doesn’t he? Phillip darkly laughs to himself. Oh, how Orion would recoil in horror if he knew how _similar_ their beginnings were. The only difference is that Phillip was a few years older and going into business instead of makeup.

That, and the _eye._

“Phillip?” It’s _fucking_ Alice again.

 _“What?”_ Phillip rasps, but he can finally painfully force out words again.

“Mr. Stokes wants to see you.” She hastily makes her escape before Phillip can argue.

There is no arguing. When Theodore wants to see you, you go. Phillip trudges up to his office. He enters without knocking.

Theodore is standing behind his desk, faced away staring out his faux-window. He turns at Phillip’s entrance. His eyes make Phillip shiver: they’ve got the same intense energy as last night.

Phillip knows better than to say anything. He stands in silence, evenly meeting Theodore’s gaze despite wanting to look away. Theodore takes a step forward, then another and another until he’s standing in Phillip’s personal space, looming over him inches away from making physical contact.

 _God, just fucking take me right here and now,_ Phillip would beg if he were younger, more human, and lacking in any dignity. _Do it so that I know you love me: Do it so that I know you care about me more than anything or anyone else._

But Theodore won’t do that. Because Theodore does not love him and Theodore does not care and Theodore would _never_ do anything untoward at the office.

“How are you feeling?” Theodore’s voice is huskier than normal.

Phillip shrugs. He can’t stand to look at Theodore anymore: the floor is much more comfortable a sight.

Theodore’s large hand caresses Phillip’s chin and gently raises his head. Where was this fucking tenderness last night? Where has this kindness been Phillip’s whole life?

As if he had been slapped instead, Phillip jerks his head away and steps back. He feels like a kid. He wants to fucking cry.

“Phillip.” Theodore sounds…disappointed? In what, that Phillip fucking hates him? That’s nothing new.

But the last thing that Phillip wants is to really upset Theodore. Concerned as always about his boss’ nonexistent feelings. Stupid, Phillip is just a big idiot. But he relents and steps back into their overwhelmingly close position.

To Phillip’s shock, Theodore wraps an arm around him and pulls him into a hug.

No, _no,_ actually, he can’t do this or he really _will_ burst into tears and have a whole-ass breakdown in this miserable office.

“Stop it,” Phillip croaks. He shoves Theodore in the chest. Ineffectual as always, but Theodore obligingly backs up all the same. “Just fucking _stop.”_

Theodore says nothing, but he takes another step back. “You are free to go,” he darkly mutters. “That’s all I needed.”

Phillip nods. He turns away.

“Phillip?” Theodore is quieter. His voice the most gentle that Phillip has ever heard. “Why do you hate me?”

An awful knot forms in Phillip’s sore throat. He shakes his head. “I – I don’t,” he confesses. Tears come to his eyes and a few escape his rapid blinking, a poor attempt to stop them from falling. “I really don’t, Theodore, I don’t at all.”

He flees the office and locks himself away for the rest of the afternoon. Nobody misses him. Nobody ever does.

Except for, maybe this time, Theodore himself.


End file.
